Fast Girls and Naked Ladies

Our barely-spluttering-along book club had its one-year anniversary on Sunday. Whoo hoo!

The book we were supposed to read this time was in a word--crap. It was Fast Girls: Teenage Tribes and the Myth of the Slut by Emily White. I should say that I pretty much have zero interest in reading about high school sluts (so-called). This may seem odd, but I don't recall any girl in my middle-class suburban high school being labeled a slut. But even if there had been a girl renowned for her sluttiness, this topic would still be of minimal interest to me (unless of course that slut [so-called] had been me). Add to that the fact that the book was poorly written (the author was overly fond of clunky Wizard of Oz metaphors) and relied on way outdated research to support its claims. I was not at all sorry to return it to the library only half-read.

We did have a great discussion, though, about other stuff such as gender roles, e.g., it's OK for men to be slutty but not women. I think book clubs that survive probably find that as time passes less and less of the get-together is devoted to discussion of the book. That's fine by me especially if the book discussion involves sangria, cheese, and other assorted snacks, which it always does. (I'd never be a part of any book club that didn't have a food and drink component.)

So after we were done talking about Fast Girls we moved on to the Naked Lady part of evening.

We had all brought a bag (or bags) of clothing we were ready to part with and dumped the contents into the middle of PF's floor. Then at the sound of a whistle we all dove in and started pawing through the stuff (just kidding about the whistle--but not about the pawing). I scored BIG TIME and finally catapulted my wardrobe into the 21st century. About time, too! As I have been self-employed since 1997 and hate shopping, I really haven't bought any clothes to speak of for years and years. Amazingly, some women took some of my antique-y clothes. (Go figure. In Portland, people will wear anything.) I was pretty sure all my stuff (probably none of it younger than 10 years old) would end up at Goodwill.

Here's what I got--I'm so thrilled!!!!

• A pair of jeans. A pair of jeans that fits. I don't need to tell any woman reading this that pulling a pair of jeans that fits and looks good out of a pile of clothes on someone's floor is the textile equivalent of finding a needle in a haystack.
• A gorgeous black sundress that fits perfectly and flatteringly.
• A gray sweater with a black velvet collar. Tres chic.
  
• An avocado green sweater-jacket thing.
• A multipurpose, wear-anywhere black skirt.
• A green short-sleeved top.
• A black shirt that is so big B could wear it (if he had any reason to dress in drag). This was the one dud, which is already set aside for the next Naked Lady Party.
  

Now I know some people would probably think that the idea of wearing your friends' castoffs is groddy and against all fashion rules set forth in Vogue, but here in Portland we like to recycle!